Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Oh yes, I have enemies. And they are large in number. They wait silently, growing more and more vile each hour. When I finally think I have rid my life of them...they come back stronger and more numerous than before. They plot against me, looking for any weakness to exploit.

I hate dirty dishes. I'm talking HATE. And I hate washing them even more. When I worked full time, I could escape the crockery mockery for hours. Then when I came home, I could justify not washing them because spending time with my kids took priority. But now I'm home pretty much all the time minus church, pre-school, and errands to exotic and exciting places like Wal-Mart. So those dastardly dishes have been wearing me down slowly...methodically...

It didn't help that our dishwasher was probably the first one ever made. Sure, it matched the 1960's cabinets to perfection, but it certainly didn't wash dishes. So since it breathed it's last sputtering breath a couple months ago, it has been sitting forlorn and neglected. Not even Frank was willing to fix it. I wonder if there is a booming market for antique dishwashers?

So I have been washing dishes the old fashioned way. Some days were good. I would psych myself up and go at it with gusto, putting a good CD in to lessen the pain and suffering. Some days were bad. I would shun the crusty crocks altogether and dive into my stash of paper goods if things got desperate.

But there is hope, my friends. There is hope!! I have been saved from Palm Olive peril. My loving husband, recognizing my dire circumstances, found a "sweet deal" on a dishwasher and gave it to me on Christmas Eve. His co-workers warned him that buying a dishwasher for your wife for Christmas could have epic and disastrous consequences akin to being the captain of the Titanic...but Frank assured them that he knew me well and that it was a gift I would like.

He was right. While a dishwasher is not exactly the epitome of romance, it is something I secretly was wishing for. But I didn't ask. It was just too big. However, I am not ashamed to say that when it was revealed, I clapped my hands like a little kid on Christmas morning and I gave the dishwasher a small hug.

You're going DOWN putrid pans. And the filthy flatware is going with you. Mu ha ha!!

Monday, December 29, 2008

Hi everyone! It's good to be back home and blogging, although it's just for a couple days. On Wednesday we head to my parent's house in northern Indiana to ring in the new year and have a belated Christmas with my family on Thursday. Then the festivities will officially end and things will get back to "normal." (Normal being the regular insanity instead of holiday insanity.)

Anyway, Frank and I received an email from our church pal Larry the other day. He needs a bio from us to put on the church's new website. The rest of the site is up. It's as www.healingpointe.com, if you want to check it out. But our info is noticeably absent if you look at the church leadership link. Larry was kind enough to say we're fantastic and talented...but Amy and Eric have quotes and everything, and I've never even written a bio before. In fact, I'm still a little queasy about the fact that we're listed as "Worship Pastors." The "P" word makes me nervous....call me a leader, co-leader, teammate, worship dudette, that girl who sings and plays the piano thing, anything...anyway...

Here's what I have so far. I need help. Too long? Too generic? Too cheesy? What would you want to know if you were going to visit a church and wanted to make sure the "worship pastors" weren't completely clueless? Should I let people know what type of music we have? So many questions...

With that I give you the draft of THE BIO:

Frank and Beth Sabelhaus grew up in different parts of Indiana, but met each other as students at Indiana State University in Terre Haute. They got to know each other through the Campus Crusade for Christ worship band, and have been playing music together ever since. Shortly after they got married in 2001, Frank and Beth started serving at Crossroads Community Church in Sullivan, Indiana in the areas of youth and music. They led their own Christian band, Behind Four Walls, for a couple years and then were a part of a local worship band, Thirsty. Through these ministries, they found a passion and calling for leading others in worship through music.

Frank graduated from ISU in 2003 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Music. He currently works for the City of Terre Haute as a Systems Administrator and is working towards a Master's Degree in Personal Evangelism and Church Planting from Liberty University. Frank loves recording music, playing drums, and a good home repair challenge.

Beth graduated from ISU in 2001 and has worked for various non-profit organizations over the years. However, no job has ever compared to her current challenge of being a stay-at-home mom to their three children, Annabelle, Joey, and Jay! Beth loves volunteering at Ryves Youth Center, blogging, and kicking back with a good book.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The weather here is nuts and we have freezing rain all over. I was going to go help at the youth center Christmas Party this evening, but I'm not sure I want to brave the roads. I hope I get to go! I miss those kiddos, even if the party is usually krazy with a capital K.

Anyway, while I'm waiting and deciding, I thought I would post a recipe. Yes, you read that correctly. A recipe. I'll wait a moment for you to close any jaws that may be hanging open....

Okay. Ready? Breathe.

This is a dessert cheeseball that my women's group makes around the holidays for a fundraiser. It's almost like a big ball of cheesecake goodness but it's a lot easier to make than cheesecake. Unless you buy the instant jell-o kind... ;)

Directions1 Beat the cream cheese, butter and vanilla in a mixing bowl.2 Gradually add the sugars, mixing just until combined.3 Stir in the chocolate chips.4 Cover in plastic wrap and shape into a ball. Chill for at least 3 hours.5 Just before serving, roll the cheese ball in the chopped pecans.6 Serve with graham crackers.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

One of my very favorite things about the holidays is seeing family that I don't get to see nearly enough during the year. Here's a fun look at my sister, brother, and I around 1988 (20 years ago!?!) and us again this past Thanksgiving. Now that we're grown-ups (and I use that term loosely), we live in three different states(well, technically one lives in a district that's not a state) and it's rare that we're all in the same place at the same time. But when we do get together, I am always so proud to learn more about who my siblings are now and all that they are up to. My sister, Christy, lives in Michigan, teaches Spanish, and this past June she and her husband became parents for the first time to my cutie nephew Linus. My brother, David, is an economics grad student at Georgetown University in Washington D.C. and has been married for over a year now. Both are internationally minded, articulate, smart, seek to serve their community, and are a part of dynamic churches in their respective cities. I will always be the big sister, I suppose, but I really admire them both. And I think God has some big stuff planned for their futures. I can't wait to see how it unfolds!

When we are together, it sometimes still amazes me that they are adults...because I grew up, but I forget they did, too. I still think they are kids...and I think I have to boss them around...or state the obvious for them...But that is one of the things I like best about the three of us getting together. No matter how much time has past or how far apart we live, when we are together, we can still be the same little kids for a moment...sitting at the "kids" table stuffing our faces and rolling our eyes at our parents taking pictures of us.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

I was doing my everyday thing the other day. Trying to balance taking care of a house and taking care of my kids and feeling like I was losing the battle on both sides. I had plopped the baby in his bassinet upstairs to throw some laundry in the washer and he really did not appreciate it. After a few wails, I stopped a looked at him. Maybe a song would help. The Robbie Seay Band's Song of Hope was in my head, so I sang...

I will sing a song of hopeSing alongGod of heaven come downHeaven come downJust to know you and be loved is enoughGod of heaven come downHeaven come down

His chubby face just lit up so instantly it was almost comical. So I sang the whole song, complete with some dance moves. Annabelle joined me, as this is her favorite song and her singing was probably why it was stuck in my head to begin with. Who knows what Joey was getting into at that particular moment. Oh well. Two out of three ain't bad.

As we finished our impromptu concert and I continued with the laundry, the song stayed with me. What a fitting song for Christmas time, I thought. A time when we celebrate a God who really did come down to earth as a little baby named Jesus. A baby just like mine. A God who gave us a never failing source of hope. And in knowing His love we find everything we need. Why is it so easy to forget that? Why is it so easy to get lost in my circumstances on this earth, circumstances that seem to be pretty good and yet I still tend to focus on the negative?

Sometimes I catch myself comparing my life to others' lives and feel guilty. I have so much compared to so many in the world. My life looks pretty good on paper- a healthy family, loving family and friends, an awesome church, a roof over my head, food to eat, enough money to pay the bills... So why don't I jump for joy every morning as I get out of bed? Is there something wrong with me? With that little Song of Hope moment, God seemed to say, "Yes! And there will always be something wrong until you get to heaven and spend eternity with me! I made you to long for a perfection that you will never be able to achieve on your own. You were designed to need Me. When you feel this way, stop throwing pity parties for yourself, stop feeling sorry for others, and instead recognize that this ache is just a way to draw close to Me and remember the hope I promised you."

Romans 8:22-25 says it like this:We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

I have come to love blogging and those I have met in our little blogging community so very much. It seems that each day I walk away encouraged and I am reminded of the hope I need to hold close. Thank you all for that! And if you're reading this post and my talk of Jesus and Christianity and all this stuff about hope doesn't make sense to you, I would love to tell you more. (Just send me an email.) I can't promise to know all the answers to your questions, but I can tell you why a little baby Jesus born over 2000 years ago means so much to me.

Merry Christmas! Sing a song of hope!

P.S. I found an accoustic version of Song of Hope here. I think I like it more than the original, although the video distracts me a bit...if pretty pictures cause you to have an inner dialogue that is louder than the message of the song...just push play and scroll up so you don't see the video. Maybe that's just me...

Friday, December 19, 2008

Have you ever had a really strange coincidence happen in your life that makes you feel like the Twilight Zone music should start playing in the background? Seems like everyone has a story like this, but I wanted to share it anyway...

A couple weeks ago, I was getting ready for my women's group December meeting (aka, pig out at the Mexican restaurant), and Frank came home from work. His first words were,

"Don't be mad. I did NOT order that guitar on the porch."

WHAT?! I didn't even know there WAS a guitar on the porch. Upon further inspection, the UPS man(or woman) had delivered a very nice brand new Gibson Les Paul guitar to our doorstep. Unfortunately, it was supposed to go a house in town with the same address but on the NORTH side of the street versus the SOUTH. Someone would be missing their guitar...probably a Christmas present. So I loaded up the big box in the van and decided to play Santa/UPS girl on my way to the restaurant.

When I found the house, I was a little nervous. I am walking up to a stranger's door unannounced in the dark, I thought. Hopefully I could shield my body from the bullets with the guitar box, should the occupant be trigger happy. Then I shook my head. I have GOT to stop watching crime dramas, I told myself.

I didn't even make it to the door before it opened and a nice looking guy about my own age stepped out. He looked relieved. He must have been waiting all day for his "baby" to arrive and instantly I felt the bond of musicianship.

"Uh, they delivered this our house by mistake today. Thought you might miss it. It's a nice guitar!" I said.

"Thanks! I was worried it wasn't going to come today!" he said.

"Well, my husband plays, and might have thought about keeping it for a second," I said, revealing way too much information while talking to a stranger. (Also, Frank was the one who WANTED me to take it to the correct house. Maybe I was the one with guitar envy...hmmm)

"Tell him he has good taste!" he said.

And on I went to my meeting. I was a little late and told my guitar story/excuse. We had a good time pigging out. At the close of the meeting, we headed to Wal-Mart to pick names off of the tree of some children to help for Christmas out of our cheeseball sale profits. I gave my friend Stacy a ride, since her husband Josh dropped her off and was playing guitar with a friend of his that he met at work. She said he was pretty cool, was new to Sullivan and was getting a new guitar he wanted to try out. When we got ready to leave Wal-Mart, I asked Stacy if she needed a ride to Josh's friend's house. It would work out well, she thought, because he lived on the same street I did. Wait a minute. Do I hear music?

Doo doo doo doo. Twilight Zone.

You guessed it. Josh's new friend was the guy I took the guitar to! Not the biggest coincidence in the world since there's not THAT many people in Sullivan, Indiana. But I still think it's funny that Josh has two guitar playing friends who have the same address (except for the North and South thing). So I ended up taking Stacy back to the very same house I had just been to a couple hours before.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Ok, so ever since my friend Kathy did a post on the hilariously insane stuff in the Skymall magazine (you know, the one you find in airplanes), I have been really wanting a Slanket. I would use this thing constantly. Reading, holding the baby, blogging, driving around in my car when I leave my coat at my in-laws, you name it.

But I feel a little guilty asking for a gift that's a glorified blanket costing over $40 that was featured in Skymall AND QVC. That's like a double warning to me screaming that no one actually needs this product. Plus it's SOLD OUT until after Christmas. I was devastated. Until I found...the Snuggie! A Slanket knock-off! Christmas could be saved! Only $14.95!

Be sure to watch for a dog that looks exactly like Phoebe at the minute mark.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Some days things just don't go the way I planned. I had a good plan yesterday, I thought. I would order a pizza as a treat for the kids and my hubby, pick it up before he got home from work, and go off to my preschool staff Christmas party. Sounds simple, right? As Joey says, "Nooope."

I started to bundle up the kids to get the pizza and I realized....my coat was nowhere to be found. My coat containing my wallet in which resides the debit card I use to pay for 99.6% of all my purchases. Look in car. No coat. Look in house. No coat. Ug. I must have forgotten to put my coat in the car when we left Frank's parents on Sunday evening. Mind you, I checked 87 times to make sure I put the kids' coats, hats, gloves, and other winter paraphernalia in the car. But my own coat? Nooope. So I had no way to pay for the pizza I had just ordered. I never have cash. I was out of checks. Oops.

So when Frank got home, he valiantly offered to go get the pizza with the kids, so I wouldn't be late to my party. All three kids and car seats do not fit in his truck, which meant he got to take the BIG UGLY GREY VAN. In it's former life, the BIG UGLY GREY VAN (BUGV) was a church van that was later used to haul stuff for a business and finally ended up in our possession as a means to haul junk to the junkyard as we work on our house. We really want to drive the BUGV to our pastor's house sometime and tell him we found a sweet deal on a van for the church just to see his reaction.... Anyway, the point is that BUGV is not the most reliable vehicle, but then again, neither are the other vehicles we own. It makes every day an adventure.

So off I went to my party, where I enjoyed a delish meal at the Olive Garden sans kids and got to appreciate the wonderment of preschool teacher holiday sweaters. I also picked up a couple of groceries and found an awesome sale on sleepers (3 for $10!!) and had fun picking out matching sleepers for my crew to wear Christmas morning. (Awwwww....)

When I finally returned home, Frank casually mentioned that we needed to go pick up the van because it died. Ummmm...so how did they get home? They walked. In the cold. Frank lugging Baby Jay in his car seat and two other kids in tow. Fortunately it wasn't that far and there is a grocery store on the way home where they took a "warm break." So where was my phone so that he could have gotten a hold of me? Tada! In my coat pocket, of course! Amazing how one spacey moment can affect so many things.

So you'd think Frank would be pretty angry with me and the world in general at this point. Nooope. He bought cookie dough at the store and when they got home he baked cookies with the kids and was wrapping Christmas presents when I got home. If the van breakdown had happened to me, I'd probably be found hiding in bed snarling at my kids and eating my weight in chocolate.

Then came the question...do you want to be the puller or the pullee? Needless to say, we've done this before. I hate being either...both make me very, very nervous. But since it was my fault, I inhaled deeply and accepted my responsibility in this mess. I would be the pullee. We made a quick call to our emergency babysitter, Haley, to see if she could come over and keep watch over our sleeping children for a few minutes so we could get the van without putting the kids through more torture than they could handle in one day. Being the extremely super awesome person she is, she said she'd be over in a few minutes. Then we got a call back. Haley's dad, hearing our situation, was on his way instead to help Frank pull the van. "You don't need to be out in that cold," Haley's mom said.

So there I was. I had made the day very inconvenient for everyone concerned, yet I had been shown a lot of grace. Haley's dad helped pull the van home, but I somehow felt like I was still the pullee. Sometimes I don't deserve help from other people. Sometimes it's hard to put away pride and even ask for help when I need it. But God is gracious and has surrounded me with people who love me, faults and all. They pull me home when I'm broken and patch me up and get me running again. And God does the same thing, for that matter! He never junks an old make or model no matter what the repair cost is. God does not make junk. So I thank God for that, and pray that I can pull and patch when it's my turn. Ha! Who would ever imagine me as a tow trucker or a mechanic!

P.S. I just heard about this fabulous thing known as "pizza delivery" where teenagers in funny hats will bring a pizza to your doorstep. Some pizza places will even let you pay for pizza online or over the phone...no actual card needed if you have the card number and expiration date...this could be revolutionary for scatterbrained and cashless people such as myself, albeit a little scary...jumping into the 21st century can be intimidating like that...

Monday, December 15, 2008

In first grade I secretly gloated the fact that I was picked to be Mrs. Claus. I had 22 lines in our class Christmas play, second only to Santa himself, with 33 lines. I remember counting them to make sure I was the most important girl part. Sure, the prettiest girl was picked to be the snow queen, but I had WAY MORE LINES.

And over the years I loved each and every chance to take the stage at Christmas. I sang solos at church in pretty dresses. I performed yearly in our church Christmas cantatas. I was in every Christmas play, program, and concert for school. Once I read a self-penned poem at the local radio station. A sixth grade nerd's star never shone so bright! Too bad the boy I had to sing a duet with that year was tone deaf and caused me much mortification. Star extinguished. Oh the drama!

I loved singing and acting. And I truly loved telling the Christmas story in a million ways even as a child. So many of my fond Christmas memories are wrapped up in songs and lines once memorized and forgotten until they re-appear each year like the ornaments at the bottom of the Christmas decorations box...

My hunky husband also has a history of Christmas stage and song. Just last night we shared a good laugh about the moving performance he gave in his 9th grade band concert via the "Christmas Rap ." (Or is it "Christmas Wrap?" Anyway, I will pay good money to anyone who will give me a copy of this concert on videotape...)

So, I hoped for the best but feared the worst as Annabelle and Joey prepared for their very first Christmas program this year. Would they mumble and look scared? That would be slightly disappointing, but I would learn to cope. Would they be perfect angels and sing each word and perform each dance move with reverence to honor the birth of Jesus? One can only dream. Would they do something totally embarrassing or have a melt-down mid program? Probably. But what EXACTLY would they do?

From the get-go Saturday night, it was clear that Joey would have no part in standing on stage with the other kids. He was a lot younger than the other kids and the director, a saintly college student, mostly just wanted to include him for the cute factor. So through the program he sat on the director's lap and wandered the church a little bit, but was surprisingly a very good two year old boy! He was even "better" than his baby brother, who proceeded to poo and pee through his diaper on to his daddy's pants during the program.

Then there's Annabelle.

Annabelle at 4 1/2 is probably more of a drama queen than I ever was, even at the height of my Mrs. Claus glory. But she is also pretty sensitive, and I feared that an audience might make her scared or cry if she forgot something and then we'd have to pay for major counseling later in life. Nope. Annabelle exuded all the joy and excitement of Christmas in one little blond and wiggly package. She sang the words as loud as she could and did all the actions with extra wiggles and jumps for affect. I tried to look at the other kids during the program...I really did...but my eyes just kept coming back to her. Especially since she was front and center, of course. Then came her "solo" with her best bud Nathan, who just turned 5, and who was also entertaining to watch in his own right. They were supposed to hold hands and sing about how baby Jesus being born would bring redemption for all. Very sweet, right? And in practice it was rumored to be very sweet....Here's reality play by play:

Music swells as solo begins.

Annabelle grabs Nathan's hand and jerks him over to where she is standing.

Annabelle and Nathan do their best to sing the big words and big tune they've been given, and do so with gusto for such little kiddos.

As soon as their solo ends, Annabelle shoves Nathan as hard as she can to his spot again and yells, "And don't touch me AGAIN!"

The whole church erupts in laughter, including kids on stage and Nathan himself. Annabelle just grins and EATS. IT. UP.

I look at Frank who's practically crying from laughing so hard and is trying desperately to compose himself.

I put my head on the table in front of me. Sigh. So much for redemption for all. It was a strange mix of embarrassment and pride that I'm sure will be a part of many Christmases to come.

I do have to say, though, my favorite part of the night was when our pastor got up after the program to thank everyone for coming, invited them to stay and eat, and said something that will stay with me....he reminded us of how Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven belongs to little children such as these. Little children who are as God made them to be without apology or embarrassment, I thought. Who love to praise their maker even if they look silly. And at that moment, as if on cue, my wandering Joey ran to my pastor wanting to be held. I am so very thankful to have a pastor and church that loves my kids and places importance on children. I also was reminded that on the days I don't have it altogether, how very good it is to run to my God like a little child and trust Him to take care of the things I can't.

So....any fond memories of Christmas programs of yore to share? C'mon, I know you have some good ones!

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Usually I find myself with too many words to write and have to figure out a way to keep myself from writing and writing and spending hours and hours doing it. And somehow make it make sense. I've got some stuff simmering in my brain, but nothing is quite coming together yet. My brain is kind of mushy and I think I'll spend the day finally putting the Christmas tree up and prepping for the kids' Christmas musical tonight. I'm not really in charge of anything, but just getting the kids bathed and dressed takes a good part of the day... Anyway, Annabelle and Joey's stage debut will probably be cause for awesome blog material for next week in case I'm still stuck.

Thank goodness Stacy from Louisville saved me and posted a way to use the U.S. Postal Service for annoying others. What better way to celebrate Christmas than to bug the guy who brought a lot of us bloggers together? Stacy is hilarious, by the way. Check out some of her other posts while you're there!

P.S. In case you live in a sad, joyless world and haven't checked out Jon Acuff's blog Stuff Christians Like, he is "the guy who brought a lot of us bloggers together." Yeah, I just quoted myself from a paragraph ago. Like I said. Brain=mush. I'm just excited I got two hyperlinks to work in one post. Later taters!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

I was going to write something mildly funny today, but I just got a call from my mother-in-law that Frank's dad is in the hospital and is possibly having a heart attack. Pray for him, please, (I know you all will, anyway.) and when I know more I'll give you an update.

Thank you so much!

Update: Frank is on his way to see his dad and after that I will know more. He is listed in critical condition, but is stable for now.

Update 2: Frank said that his dad continues to be stable and is going to spend the night to see how things go. Hopefully if all is well, Frank will come home tomorrow.

Update 3: No news since yesterday evening, but I take that as good news I guess.

Update 4: I talked to Frank and his dad is doing much better today and got a good rest last night. I'm so relieved!

Sunday, December 7, 2008

I share this information with you with the hopes that it will:A. Make you feel just a little more normal.B. Make you feel like there's someone out there that might be as crazy as you.

And I will add a disclaimer: I usually am not obsessed with my physical appearance. I'm a pretty low maintenance type of gal. There are a lot of things that are more important to me than how I look. But this hairy adventure is just too funny not to share...

Let's just say I have some hair issues lately. For the past two years I have had a dry, itchy, scaly scalp. I don't know why it developed or what it is and I keep hoping it will go away as suddenly as it appeared. But no luck. Lately it's been worse that usual. I also have been losing my hair in massive quantities. After every baby, this has happened at about the four month mark. I knew it was coming. It will grow back. But it is still disturbing to see wads of hair each time I turn around...when I brush my hair, when I bathe, when I think really, really hard...embarrassing. It's to the point that you could see the dry scalp through my thinning hair and I need to wear a hair net when I cook. Very sexy.

Last week I got fed up and decided to take some action. Did I go see my doctor for a dermatologist referral? Did I consult a stylist about a new product to try? No. That would be easy and make sense. And it would possibly cost more than three dollars.

Instead, I tried an idea my loving and wonderful husband had. When babies have scalp issues (cradle cap), you can put a little Vaseline or baby oil on their scalp and comb the nasties out. Presto! Instant healthy scalp. I have done this with my kids. What works on babies HAS to work on adults, right? So Friday night I coated my head in Vaseline to let it soften for a night. What's the worst that could happen, I thought. If it doesn't work, I'll simply wash it out in the morning and try something else.

Overnight, the Vaseline worked it's way through my longish hair and was a pretty ewwy gooey greasy mess. When I combed through it, the plan seemed to work okay except for the comb removed a lot of hair along with the unwanted scalp crust. It will grow back, I told myself. It will be worth it. Healthy scalp, here I come!! I started to wet down my hair to wash everything clean...but my hair wouldn't get wet. The Vaseline totally repelled the water. Like...uh...water off a duck's back. Hmmm.... Well, maybe shampoo would help. I tried two different kinds. With each shampoo, more hair fell out. But my remaining hair stayed a greasy mess. So I went to church last night with my hair back in a bun, looking like I had put a whole can of pomade on it.

Today it was go time. I WOULD find something to remove the grease from my hair. Dish soap was first. I washed my hair twice. Each time more hair came out. Each time the hair stayed greasy. I tried the de-greaser my husband used to wash his hands after working on cars. It smells like orange cleaner and looks like cloudy grey jell-o. It has warnings about what to do if it comes in contact with your eyes. That worked a little bit. And you guessed it. I lost more hair. After that I called a truce. If I washed it any more, there wouldn't be any left to wash.

So here I sit tonight. With greasy hair. That smells like bitter orange peel with a hint of Dawn. There are big wads of hair in the bathroom trash. I told Frank it looks like I killed a small animal. He said it looked like I killed a large animal. I guess that's what I get for trying to buck the system and spare myself the embarrassment of sharing my hair/scalp issues with a professional and spending a few bucks. But my scalp does look and feel better, by golly. And it's easily seen through my very thin hair...

Friday, December 5, 2008

Last February, I surprised my husband by taking him to a concert for his birthday along with a night without the kiddos in beautiful, exotic, Champaign, IL. We went to see Sanctus Real at a big church there. At the concert, I heard this song for the first time. Since then, it has received quite a bit of air play on the Christian radio station around here. My friend gave me a copy of the CD. You know when you have those songs that follow you around? This is mine for 2008. Quite possibly the best lyric ever: "Whatever you're doing inside of me, it feels like chaos, but somehow there's peace." Chaos of life + Getting to know Jesus = Peace that passes all logical or emotional understanding.

Kudos to the Sanctus Real guy for not caving into his bandmates' love of "guy in a band" hair. Although it still looks like he just got out of bed. (Really, Beth? Are you back on that hair thing AGAIN?? You may have a problem that needs counseling...or at least a better stylist)

Whatever You're Doing (Something Heavenly)

It's time for healing, time to move onIt's time to fix what's been broken too longTime make right what has been wrongIt's time to find my way to where I belongThere's a wave that's crashing over meAll I can do is surrender

Whatever you're doing inside of meIt feels like chaos somehow there's peaceIt's hard to surrender to what I can't seeBut I'm giving in to something heavenly

Time for a milestoneTime to begin againRe-evaluate who I really amAm I doing everything to follow your willor just climbing aimlessly over these hillsSo show me what it is you want from meI give everything, I surrender...To...

Whatever you're doing inside of meIt feels like chaos somehow there's peaceIt's hard to surrender to what I can't seeBut I'm giving in to something heavenly

Time to face upClean this old houseTime to breathe in and let everything outThat I've wanted to say for so many yearsTime to to release all my held back tears

Whatever you're doing inside of meIt feels like chaos but I believeYou're up to something bigger than meLarger than life something heavenly

Whatever you're doing inside of meIt feels like chaos but now I can seeThis something bigger than meLarger than life something heavenlySomething heavenly

It's time to face upClean this old houseTime breathe in and let everything out

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Comin' atcha with some Relient K today. At the risk of sounding like a 15 year old punk, Relient K rulz! I still have a long way to go when it comes to giving my all to God and giving my all to others, but this song inspires me. It makes me want to go past the point of comfortable-warm-fuzzy kind of giving and reach into the sacrificial-it-hurts kind of giving. Sometimes God practically has to pry precious time, money, and talents from my clutches. So I'm trying to work on that. Especially during Christmas. 'Tis the season to give, right?

For the record, I don't think I had to figure things out totally on my own like the song hints at. I've had many good teachers who taught me what giving looks like. And those people are gifts from God to me. But I am ultimately responsible for making decisions about how and what I give. Good thing God's always with me in that. Nope. Nothing should be done totally on my own!

Also for the record, the "guy in a band" hair distracted me a little bit in the video, but other than that, I love it. Why do they always have to have the hair? Do record companies require that? "We'd really like to offer you a fantastic multi-million dollar contract, but first you have to look like you just rolled out of bed in the year 1976." That's right Jonas Brothers, I'm talking to YOU. I am really glad that my husband spends less than 2 minutes on his hair each morning, even if he insists on cutting it himself....

Sorry. Got off track. With the mental picture of Frank using the clippers and 3 mirrors to cut his own hair, I present to you:

Give

No one told meThe right wayThe right way to go about thisSo I'll figure it out for myself

Cuz how muchIs too muchTo give youWell I may never knowSo I'll just give until there's nothing else

No one told meHow bad I need you But I somehow arrivedTo that conclusion all by myself

And I wantAll you have to offerSo I offer myself and I'll just give until there's nothing elseAnd I'll give give give (until there's nothing else)Give my life (until it all runs out)Give give (and I'll have no regrets)I'll give until there's nothing left

Sometimes I thinkLike all I ever doIs ask for thingsUntil I ask too much of youBut that's not the way I wanna live I need to change But something's got to giveYeah something's got toGive give give (until there's nothing left)Give my life (until it all runs out)Give give (and I'll have no regrets)I'll give until there's nothing left to giveGive give give (until there's nothing left)Give my life (until it all runs out)Give giveGive until there's nothing leftI'll give

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

I'm back, I'm behind in housework again, and I am blogging. I also found the time to bake some brownies this afternoon. But you have to have priorities, people. Say it with me: priorities.

Anywho, I think the next series of posts are going to be songs that have been speaking to me in some form. If I can find them on YouTube or free Napster, you'd better believe I'll get the music to go with them. I really like themes, so go with me on this. I'm sure I'll tire of it eventually. :)

Today's song is called I Am. It is by a band called The Waiting. It's an obscure flashback to the 90's Christian music scene. They had some awesome songs that never got too much recognition. Back in the day, I liked the sound of the music. More than ten years later, I more fully appreciate the lyrics as well. But this song pretty much solves the identity crisis I have some days. It strips me of pride but doesn't leave me worthless. All my worth comes from the One who created me. "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." (Phil. 4:13 NIV). I used to think that verse was like a super power that allowed me to do feats beyond what I'm normally capable of. In a sense, that's true. But when I see that verse now, I read it more as anything and everything I do is only because God put me on this earth and gave me the abilities to live and breath and think. I am because He is.

I Am

Walking out alone The night fits like a stone inside a boot heel Hot and cold winds blow And no one is here to know the way I feel The corner I once knew brings me in to view again So I could stay out late, find new bones to break But then I'd be dragging home admitting

I am because You are I am I recognize clearly I see I am because You are I am I am in You and You are in me

Spent too many days devising manyways trying to escape youPlayed too many roles Dug too many holes just big enough to fall into And I could linger here hoping to disappear in excuses Come morning's shining face I'd be crawling to the place I call home where first you cut me loose

The places that I've carried You, I wouldn't take a dog Stop and calmly think of that

Tear this church down to its cornerstone And build it up again, build me up again.

I am because You are I am I recognize clearly I see I am because You are I am I am in You and You are in me

About Me

I'm attempting to follow Jesus with my heart, mind, soul, and strength. I've been married 11 years to a man who truly was my answer to prayer and is as weird as I am. I'm a mom to three extremely beautiful kiddos ages 8, 7, and 4. I teach music lessons part-time and am starting to get involved in the worship ministry at Maryland Community Church in Terre Haute.